


I'll Be Your Forget Me Not

by TellMeWhy97



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: It's based on forget me not by marianas trench, It's kinda sad I'm sorry, M/M, There's a mention of calum and ash but they're not central at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 09:08:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5158139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellMeWhy97/pseuds/TellMeWhy97
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke is dying and Michael reflects on their love</p>
<p>Based on the song Forget Me Not by Marianas Trench</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Your Forget Me Not

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work on this website so please be nice
> 
> My 5sos tumblr is ironic-cal.tumblr.com :))

Michael had always loved Luke.

Sure, there was the span of time when they were young when he had "hated" him. But that didn't count. That was before he really knew Luke.

He hadn't known how he could make Luke laugh until he had tears in his eyes or how they could be sitting in silence together and Luke would glance up at Michael every once in a while and just smile to himself, not aware that Michael could see him doing it. Michael watched Luke grow up from an awkward, self-conscious little boy to a man with broad shoulders and confidence enough for the both of them. Touring and meeting fans and such had helped with that, but Michael was sure that confident Luke had always been buried beneath his shy exterior.

Michael could remember every time he heard Luke's laugh with clarity. Even more so when it was Michael causing the younger boy to smile. He could also remember all too clearly every time Luke had cried, even if Luke thought he didn't notice. Titanic had made the blond boy sniffle and Michael could swear that he sobbed in the bathroom for a minute after the movie ended. And of course Michael had called him on it, and Luke had denied it with red eyes, but they both knew who was right.

There were other times that Luke cried too, and those times were hard. Harder than when the tears were caused by some stupid movie. Some of the time it was because of Michael. Sometimes it was stress, sometimes lack of sleep, sometimes just a moment of intense emotion. He'd cried when he was happy too. Sometimes Michael cause that too.

One such time was when Michael proposed. It was simple and perfect and Luke had had no idea. Michael made sure they were home on break for Christmas, when he knew they'd be able to get some privacy and spend time together without the stress of tour. They'd had dinner together--Michael's treat, which he hadn't burned, thank goodness--and sipped wine sitting on the carpet of Michael's living room, both of them leaning up against the sofa side by side. It was normal and perfect and Michael could still remember Luke's fingers toying with the hair at the base of his neck while they talked about nothing. Shit, Michael could remember what Luke was wearing and the cologne he'd put on before coming over that Michael had smelled when they'd kissed hello. Michael pulled out the simple band and Luke hadn't even noticed at first. He'd been pouring wine and talking about how this brand "wasn't his favourite" but it was "good enough". Then the shiny metal had caught his eye and he'd nearly spilled his drink. His cheeks had turned pink and with wide eyes he'd held out his left hand for Michael to slide the ring onto his finger. Michael had never been more in love with Luke, the sparkle in his eye, the dimple in his cheek as he beamed at his now-fiancé.

They hardly spoke as Michael pulled Luke in for a kiss. If Michael concentrated enough now, he could still call to mind the way his mouth tasted. He was salty from the tears of joy that were streaming down his face. Michael had pulled Luke into his lap, kissing him sweetly and innocently, focusing on trying to get Luke to understand exactly how much he loved him. Luke's fingers twisted in his hair, he younger boy sighing into Michael's mouth, Michael couldn't imagine a moment in his life more perfect than that. He wishes he could go back and experience it again.

They had gotten married with a small, intimate ceremony, very un-celebrity of them. But Michael knew that was what Luke wanted, and therefore it was what he wanted too. In the first year of them being officially married, they hadn't had time to have a proper honeymoon, since they'd planned another world tour that took up 8 of the 12 months of the year. That was something Michael regretted, but he knew that Luke was fine just being together at all. At least they were touring together. If Calum and Ashton wanted to get married to other people, they'd have to tour and leave their spouses behind. Michael couldn't even imagine having to do that. Living without Luke was unthinkable.

The tour that year was hard on them. It was stressful to stay on the road for that long and Luke and Michael's relationship had struggled for the first real time. Having every aspect of their interaction published and sold as tabloid "news" was difficult. Any time they went out, it was front page material. That was fine. Michael could handle that.

It was the constant cheating rumours that bothered him.

He knew full well that Luke was devoted to him, and he hoped Luke knew that Michael would never choose anyone over Luke, but that didn't mean that it was easy to ignore the constant guessing and conspiring of the tabloids. If they went out with anyone, male or female, married or not, there were rumours. _Luke Hemmings Heads Out on the Town, Beau Michael Clifford is Absent. Michael Clifford Seen Out with Mysterious Blonde--Husband Luke Hemmings Suspiciously Missing?_ Of course, it was all preposterous but it was hard to get rid of the nagging feeling that maybe one of the rumours could be true.

One of the worst nights was Michael's own fault.

He'd been stupid. Drunk. A complete and utter idiot. He'd gone out with Calum to a club simply because Calum hadn't wanted to go alone and Ashton hadn't been feeling well enough to go. He'd gotten too drunk. Michael still wants to punch himself for doing this. He had gone home with someone. A stranger. He could hardly remember the encounter, he had been so drunk. All he knew was a beard that wasn't Luke's, a grip on his hips that wasn't Luke's. The man was not Luke.

The next morning when he'd woke, the first thing he'd done was call Luke. He cried into the phone, ignoring his piercing headache. He had put on his pants with one hand, the other holding the phone as he sobbed to Luke. He didn't take a second look at the man lying naked on the bed, still snoring away. Michael only really remembered Luke. The disappointment in his voice as he tried to hold it together on the phone.

Michael had stood on the curb of the strangers street with his face in his hands for half an hour as he waited for a car to come get him. He could clearly remember the shine of the cement between his feet as he stared down at his toes, tears blurring his vision. He remembered Luke's black shoes stopping in front of him. Just standing there. Michael remembered crying harder and Luke stooping down, wrapping his arms around him, pulling up so they're standing, clutching each other, crying into each other's shoulders. Luke had been warm, but he was shaking.

"I'm so sorry," Michael had whispered, his voice not able to rise any higher without it breaking.

"Me too," Luke had replied and Michael had never been more afraid in his life.

The drive back to their hotel had been a quiet one, filled with thick silence that made Michael feel like he couldn't breathe. The quiet was only broken by occasional sniffles on both their parts.

That week was the worst of Michael's life. Well, of his young life. Luke would hardly look at him. Their interviews were awkward and their shows were worse, barely any interaction between them. The songs Michael had written about Luke, the happy and the sad, were painful to sing. In hotel rooms, Luke wouldn't touch him. They stayed on their own sides of the bed. Barely speaking. Just getting by. Michael never realized how much Luke meant to him before that week. They were together but in the most basic physical sense. It wasn't enough. Michael could remember dreaming about he and Luke having a simple conversation. One night, Michael swore he heard Luke say his name in his sleep.

It only lasted a week. Luke was hurt. Michael was hurt for hurting Luke. But they both knew that they needed each other. The night Luke had accepted Michael's apology was one that Michael could never forget.

They'd come back from an interview and Michael's head had been reeling. The interviewer had asked about them. She had either read something or sensed that there was tension between Luke and Michael and, being a good reporter, wanted to get to the bottom of it.

"So how's paradise, Luke?" It was a simple question. Michael could see Luke visibly tense but he had relaxed just as quickly.

"You know what?" Michael's heart was in his throat as Luke had started his answer. "No relationship is easy. There's always ups and downs and you know, we love each other," Michael can't take his eyes off his husband. "Even if things get bad for a while, they're gonna get better. Everything gets better. And then everything is good. So, to answer your question, we are good. Very good." He offered his best smile for her and when she moved on, Luke finally looked Michael in the eye. It was all he needed.

They were going to be okay.

That night in their hotel room, things weren't normal. Michael sat down on their bed to take off his shoes and Luke had sat beside him and actually put his head on Michael's shoulder.

"We're gonna be okay."

~

Those are the words Michael whispers to Luke as Luke lays in that awful hospital bed, machines beeping and spluttering and making all manner of horrible noises. He is so frail. His skin has lost its healthy glow and now looks more grey than anything. He had turned to skin and bones in a matter of weeks and Michael can feel his heart breaking a little bit every time the heart monitor beeps.

~

The night Luke had forgiven him, Michael had laid with his head on Luke's chest, listening to his strong heartbeat, practically jumping through his chest. Sweat clung to them as they held tightly to each other.

"I love you, Luke." Michael could remember the way Luke sighed contentedly. His thumb had stroked Michael's cheek tenderly as he met Michael's eyes.

"I know." Luke kissed his forehead. "I love you too much to be mad forever."

~

"I love you, Luke." Michael's voice isn't nearly as strong as he wants it to be.

They're alone, which is more than Michael could ever hope for. He feels like he's been here for years in this moment. Looking at his husband now, though he's aged so much over the past 50 years, Michael can still see 19, 17, even 15 year old Luke. The set of his brows or the curve of his lips as Luke smiles at him. Michael is afraid it's the last smile he'll ever see from his love.

"I know." In any other situation Michael would laugh and possibly punch Luke for being a smart-ass but now isn't the time. Now, the best he can do is let out a strangled noise, intended as a laugh, but sounding more like a sob. Luke's eye close and he takes a deep breath. He's tired. He's always tired nowadays. He has no energy left. It destroys Michael.

"Life's too short but the end is so long, Michael," Luke says, keeping his eyes shut.

"I'm not ready," Michael feels desperate and he clutches Luke's cold hand tightly. "You can't leave me Luke."

Luke's light snoring tells him he's fallen asleep and Michael feels like his heart is breaking for the first time in his life. Luke wasn't supposed to die first. Now Luke isn't quite here anymore but he's not quite gone. Michael doesn't know how he'll survive.

~

The next morning he's at home--the one Luke and he bought what feels like a lifetime ago. Now it's just his home. Well, his house. It'll never be a home now Luke is... Michael can't face that thought.

He wanders the halls of his echoey house aimlessly. He has no tears left. As he wanders, his eyes fall on the old grand piano they have in their lounge. It's grown dusty because Luke was too weak to play it recently. Michael's feet pull him to the bench and he sits without feeling much control over his movements. His fingers graze the tops of the white keys, knowing Luke was the last one to touch them. He imagines he can feel the warmth of Luke's last touches on them and he taps out one of the melodies he wrote for Luke when they were young.

His fingers trace the familiar pattern that he hasn't played in years. It was Luke who taught him to play piano in the first place, and Michael had never been as good as him. Michael can't remember the words and he knows that if he were to try to sing, no sound would come out. So he plays without singing, letting the tears he thought he didn't have fall down his face onto the keys.

Playing Luke's song.


End file.
